


The Raft

by Kivuline



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Dark Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Prison, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Spiral - Freeform, The Raft Prison (Marvel), Trish just needed a hug, cells, some violence, thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivuline/pseuds/Kivuline
Summary: A look into Trish's thoughts and time in the Raft.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4





	The Raft

**Author's Note:**

> I am entirely making up everything within the Raft as information on it within the MCU is incredibly vague. I also don't know what this is so...

Trish laid in her cell at the Raft, staring blankly at the ceiling as she let everything that had happened hit her. She’d never truly taken the time to process anything. Not since... She blinked and shook her head quickly, clenching her fists. No. Not now. Not today. Not yet. That would be too much. Better to start somewhere else. Smaller. 

She laughed to herself, choking back a sob. Smaller? What did she truly think would be smaller since then? Her friends turning on her? Her own sister turning on her? Trying to escape? Killing... him? That god damned box...? 

Trish squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, digging her nails into her palms. She might as well still be in that box. Hell, wasn’t this just a larger box? She wouldn’t be able to get out of here after all. They sent people... not even people. They didn’t even consider her a person anymore. Not after what she did. What happened. Everything just... 

Her eyes snapped open to the dull, gray, metal ceiling. What was the point? Why not just kill her? Why bother with the Raft? How could Jess just...? Why...? No. They wanted her to suffer. She deserved it now after all. She was the bad guy. 

“Am I...?” she whispered, breathing heavily. Her voice hoarse. She hadn’t spoken much since she arrived. No point. No one to talk to. But she’d said it herself. She was the bad guy. But why...? Was she really that wrong...? She needed... but they didn’t care. 

“Never will now...” she mumbled, rolling onto her side, staring at the seam between the wall and the floor. The cell had a sorry excuse for a bed but she didn’t want it. Didn’t deserve it. How could she? 

Trish curled up tightly, shivering a little. Metal floors were cold. Or maybe she was just cold. Did it matter? Was it cold? Maybe she was the cold one. Not the cell. It was cold because of her. She was broken. 

Her gaze shifted to her hands for a moment. Half of her nails were broken. And bloody. Were they? She didn’t know. Maybe it was from him. The elevator. She was just doing what she thought was right. He deserved it. She didn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it and they all deserved it and they weren’t going to do anything to actually punish those people and someone had to and she had the power and that was what she’d always wanted to be able to do so- 

“Why?” she growled at the wall, as if it held the answer. It never had before. Just the dried blood from her hitting it. 

She didn’t understand. Why did Alisa deserve a second chance? Jess’s fucked up mother. After everything she did. Jess was willing to try and help her? But not Trish. Not the person who had stood by her. Tried to help her. Tried so fucking hard to be a good friend. A good sister. To support her. And for what? Did it ever even matter? Was she always just being used...? 

Jess should have cared. Seen that she needed help. But it all went wrong after Alisa turned up. Trish killed her. And Jess hated that. But she’d been dangerous and Trish thought it was for the best. She’d always done what she thought was for the best. She’d put herself at risk so many times for Jess. 

But Jess didn’t care. 

Maybe she never did. 

A tear slid down her cheek onto the floor of the cell. Maybe they were always just using each other. And it was all a lie. All faked. But she... they’d said they loved each other. Wasn’t that true...? 

It couldn’t be. 

If Jess loved her, she wouldn’t have sent Trish here. 

There was a moment, the last time they saw each other, Trish thought she understood. 

But she didn’t. 

Not anymore. 

It didn’t make sense. 

Trish tensed at the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall. One of the guards. Patrol? Or food? She scoffed. A pathetic excuse for food. She pushed herself up to sit cross-legged, facing the cell door. Her hair was matted in the back and the sides fell into her face. She stared blankly at the door. Well, more of a wall than a door. She knew it was where the door was. If she faced it the bed was to her right. Otherwise, it just looked like another plain wall. 

She heard a few faint clicks, and the wall became transparent. She knew it was still there. She’d learned that the hard way. 

“Patsy,” the guard sneered at her, setting the tray on the ground and sliding it through the slot that opened in the wall. 

Trish didn’t react. She refused to respond to Patsy. She was the farthest from Patsy she’d ever been and she’d be damned if- well she supposed she was damned. Oh well. Not the point. 

“Walker!” the guard snapped, startling her from her thoughts. 

She lifted her head enough to look him in the eye. “What?” she growled. This was the guard she hated the most. There were four who had done this rotation. Trish wasn’t sure how many days she’d been here, but she’d seen them each at least twice. 

“Eat. You know you can’t keep the tray.” The guard glared at her. 

She scoffed. As if he could get it without her giving it back. She eyed the gun on his hip for a moment before reaching for the tray. She took the block of... whatever excuse for food it was today and ate slowly. She liked making the guards wait. It was the only form of entertainment around here. And this one- 

“Hurry up, bitch, I have shit to do!” he snapped. 

She shrugged. Not her problem. He should manage his time better. She nibbled her way through her food and looked up at him expectantly. Maybe it was time to test something. 

“The tray, Walker.” 

“No.” she smiled, staring him down with wide, unblinking eyes. The tray was sitting beside her, too far for him to reach. “It’s mine now.” 

“Oh, that’s not how this works,” he said lowly. “Hand it over.” 

“Come and get it,” she reached out to rest a hand on it. 

The guard didn’t respond again and instead drew his gun, tapping another button on whatever panel controlled the wall. Trish tensed to stand, gripping the tray, but she was slower than she thought. She heard a shot ring out. The tray clattering. She hit the floor. 

Everything went dark.

**Author's Note:**

> I may continue this. Feel free to leave me thoughts, I love reading reviews. I also really wish we'd gotten to know what happened to Trish, so this is my version of what she ends up going through.


End file.
